Life in Sedona
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: A series of vignettes about Te'ijal and Galahad's time in Sedona, based on the letters Te'ijal writes in TLO.
1. Human Recreation

AN: Another Aveyond fic. Well, my computer's currently not working, but I wrote this a while ago for the Amaranth Games forums and now that TDP is coming out soon I thought I'd also post it here. Anyway, this story is a series of vignettes about Te'ijal and Galahad's time living in Sedona, based on the awesome letters Te'ijal wrote to Mel during TLO. Each chapter is inspired by one of the things or events Te'ijal talks about in her letters.

Oh, and I don't own Aveyond (well, I own my copy of it, but that's not what I mean).

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 1: Human Recreation

Te'ijal groggily stumbled down the stairs, having once again slept badly, her night disturbed by dreams of her old life as a vampire, which faded out of her memory the instant she awoke. Dreams were so annoying – why couldn't humans just _sleep_ sleep the way vampires always did?

She found Galahad in the dining room, humming to himself as he set the table. Their new home in Sedona was quite similar to the manor where they had once lived when traveling with Rhen and her friends, only a good deal smaller. Perhaps she shouldn't have agreed to live in a town that was sure to bring back old memories.

Sensing his wife's presence, Galahad looked up at her and smiled. "Good morning, wife," he said cheerily. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful this morning."

He was lying, of course, Te'ijal was sure of it. Her hair was mussed and there were probably dark circles under her eyes. Why did human men always feel the need to tell their wives that they were beautiful?

"I made cheese omelettes for breakfast," Galahad continued, seeming not to notice that his wife hadn't spoken all morning.

"Cheese omelettes," Te'ijal muttered. "So that's _food,_ I assume?"

"Of course," said Galahad. "Sit down, I promise you'll like it." He ducked into the kitchen, a slight bounce in his step.

Te'ijal sat, but she was already certain that her husband was wrong with his latter statement. His humming from the kitchen was starting to irritate her. For him, it was as if his three-hundred-year existence as a vampire never happened – he welcomed being human again.

If only it could be that simple for her . . .

Galahad returned to the dining room, carrying two plates, each of which held a yellow semicircle, some sort of food, which made Te'ijal realize that she wasn't sure exactly what a cheese omelette was.

"Eggs on the outside, cheese on the inside," Galahad said, placing one of the plates in front of Te'ijal and kissing her cheek again. "Enjoy."

Te'ijal made a face as she stared down at her omelette, the lump of puffy yellow stuff laced with lines of brown. Maybe it tasted good to regular humans, but that didn't matter to her. Only one thing mattered in her mind.

It wasn't blood.

After a minute or so, Galahad looked up from his own omelette, which was already half-eaten. "Are you planning to starve yourself, Te'ijal?" he said lightly.

"Why not?" said Te'ijal. "You did the same thing for three hundred years."

"That's different," Galahad declared, a sudden seriousness in his voice. "I could still exist without drinking human blood, but if _you_ don't eat, you'll _die."_

"I _already _died " Te'ijal snapped. "And that was how I _liked_ it "

"Well if you don't eat, you'll _die_ die," said Galahad. "Refusing to eat won't turn you back into a vampire – I'm sure you know that."

Te'ijal growled, but she picked up her fork, that strange instrument humans needed to eat. She pressed it into the corner of the omelette, which made a bit of cheese begin to leak out of the edge. After struggling for a few moments, she managed to get a piece of omelette on her fork and, flinching the entire time, she put it in her mouth.

She chewed. It was humiliating to chew – she used to be able to eat just by sucking blood out of someone's body. The food felt squishy in her mouth. Worse still, she had saliva now, which made the whole experience even more disgusting – she could feel it mixing with the food. Yes, it tasted good, she supposed, but the _chewing _experience made the taste seem insignificant.

Galahad smiled at her after she swallowed. "There, that wasn't bad, was it?"

"Chewing is gross," Te'ijal responded.

Galahad shrugged. "I guess you could see it that way if you're not used to it, but soon you'll learn that eating is a pleasure."

"Ha," Te'ijal choked out.

Galahad sighed, finishing off the last of his omelette and brushing the napkin over his mouth. Then after a moment, he seemed to get an idea. "Te'ijal," he said with another smile, "do you know what a picnic is?"

"Of course," said Te'ijal. "It's one of your odd forms of human recreation. For some reason you think eating your _food_ is more fun when you do it outside."

"Well," said Galahad, "why don't we go on a picnic today?"

"You mean more _eating?"_

Galahad shrugged again. "Well you have to eat anyway, so why don't we do it on the beach today? Maybe a change of scenery will help you enjoy it more.'

Te'ijal bared her teeth as if she were still a vampire. "You, husband, are just as foolish as all the other humans."

"I know," said Galahad. "That's why you love me, isn't it?"

A long sigh emerged from Te'ijal's mouth, but she had to respond. "Yes," she admitted.

_Five hours later_

Te'ijal and Galahad lay side by side on their picnic blanket, gazing up at the clouds. Te'ijal was feeling icky in the stomach – she suspected this was what humans meant when they felt overstuffed. How did her husband manage to get her to eat so much? Maybe it was the apple pie they'd had for dessert. At least that didn't require as much chewing as everything else.

She squeezed her husband's hand and closed her eyes, absorbing the warm sun beating down on her skin, the sound of the waves crashing against the beach, the smell of the sea air. Maybe Galahad was right, and she would eventually get used to this.

But she highly doubted it.


	2. Sleeping Arrangements

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 2: Sleeping Arrangements

"Good night, Galahad."

"Good night, Te'ijal."

Galahad blew out the candle on the nightstand, letting the bedroom be shrouded in darkness mixed with a little moonlight from the window. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the bed?" he asked, attempting to stretch his neck so he could see his wife, who was curled up on the floor next to the bed.

"Yes," she responded tartly. "Beds are for humans."

"Which you _are_ now."

"Don't remind me," Te'ijal growled.

Galahad twisted his mouth and shook his head at his wife's stubbornness. He knew she missed her coffin, but was she really willing to risk her entire body aching in the morning for the sake of simulating a coffin?

"All right then," he said. "Good night."

"Good night."

He rolled to his back and stretched out his legs, savoring the mattress's softness, feeling like he could drift off to sleep as easily as anything . . . and yet something felt wrong. It felt like something was . . . missing. He rolled over to his side, facing the empty pillow next to him.

The pillow that was meant for Te'ijal.

They had a double bed, but only one person used it – that wasn't how it was supposed to be. How long was Te'ijal going to remain in this state where she refused to sleep in the bed?

Could he wait that long?

After a while, he rolled back to facing his wife, though he couldn't see her when he was lying down. Was she asleep yet? He held his breath, listening for any hints. Her breathing was slow and even, but that didn't necessarily mean she was asleep. How could any human fall asleep on that hardwood floor with no pillow and no blankets anyway?

He sighed. Back in the days when they shared a coffin, he would have given anything to get away from her, yet now when he was finally able to sleep alone, he craved her presence. Three hundred years with her had done something to him, something he still couldn't figure out.

Te'ijal groaned softly, causing Galahad to push himself up on his elbow and look down at her. She was curled up as tightly as her body could manage, shivering slightly. The dark red nightgown he'd bought for her didn't offer much protection from the cold, nor did the floor offer much comfort for her human body.

He had to do something about that.

Ever-so-slowly, careful not to step on his wife or wake her up, Galahad climbed out of bed, which awkwardly sandwiched him between Te'ijal and the bed. After shifting his weight around, he managed to bend over and scoop Te'ijal into his arms. She made a soft "mmm" sound, but other than that she didn't react to her husband picking her up. Her long arms and legs dangled from Galahad's arms, making her difficult to carry.

"You may not care if you wake up with aches and pains or freeze to death," he whispered, "but _I_ do."

He carried her around the bed and gently placed her down on the side of the mattress that was meant for her. She moaned again as he pulled the covers over her, but she still didn't wake.

Galahad felt himself smiling as he tucked the blankets around her shoulders. She would probably complain about this in the morning, but somehow that didn't matter to him. What mattered was that she would be warm and safe during the night.

"You'll thank me for this someday," he whispered, making his way around the bed and climbing back in next to his wife. Her body was already making the bed a good deal warmer and the moonlight was illuminating her sleeping face. Galahad felt relaxed already. He wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes, whispering one last thing to his wife before falling asleep.

"Good night, my love."


	3. Back to Training

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 3: Back to Training

Watching Te'ijal on the training ground was fascinating, though Galahad wasn't exactly sure why he thought that. Maybe it was just the very fact that such a skilled fighter was on the training ground in the first place, struggling with her bow, screaming when she failed to hit the target. There was an almost hypnotic fluidity to her persistence – she shot, she screamed, she shot again.

"Dammit!" she shouted after missing the target yet again. "Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" She stormed up to the target to retrieve her arrows, most of which had lodged themselves in the fence or landed on the grass. "This isn't happening, this is NOT happening."

"You may not like it, wife," called Galahad, "but it _is_ happening."

With her bow in one hand and her arrows in the other, Te'ijal stormed back up to her husband, glaring at him. "So I must give up being an archer as well as a vampire?" she spat.

"I didn't say _that_," Galahad said quickly, knowing that being an archer was part of her very soul, even more than being a vampire was. "You're just going to have to learn archery the way we humans do – bit by bit."

Te'ijal sneered. "Says he who just stands around and watches me do this every day. Do you not wish to learn swordfighting again, or are you just afraid of humiliation?"

"I already _knew_ swordfighting when I was human the _first_ time," declared Galahad, vaguely resembling his old pompous self for a moment.

"And _I_ already knew archery," Te'ijal shot back.

"Really?" Galahad cocked his head. "I thought you said you remembered almost nothing about being human."

"Well that's one thing I _do_ remember."

Galahad wasn't sure if she was telling the truth, but he knew better than to press the matter. He gently pressed his hands against her cheeks and kissed her forehead, tasting her sweat. "Come now, haven't you had enough for today?"

"No," Te'ijal said firmly. She poked her husband's side with her bow. "While we're here, why don't _you_ get some practice with your sword?"

Galahad's tongue brushed over his teeth. "Come on wife, I don't need to . . ."

"Do it," Te'ijal commanded. "Prove that being human hasn't hampered _your _ability to fight."

Galahad fumbled for a protest, but came up with nothing. "Well . . . sweetheart . . . I don't think . . ." Finally he sighed in defeat and made his way to the sword training area. Even though she wasn't a vampire anymore, his wife was still very persuasive.

As he picked up a sword with a blunted tip, he thought more and more that this was utterly ridiculous. Blunted tips were for children, not experienced fighters. He felt even more embarrassed when he walked up to one of the training instructors and asked for a practice duel.

"First time fighting?" asked the instructor, patting her own sword which also had a blunt tip.

"I should say _not!" _Galahad exclaimed. "I've been fighting for longer than you've been alive!"

The instructor snickered, clearly trying to stop herself from breaking into uncontrollable laughter. "All right, if you say so." She drew her sword. "Ready?"

"Ready." Galahad attempted to draw his sword, but he only got it halfway out of the sheath before it got stuck. "Hold on, just a second." He tried again, but he could only get the sword to budge a few inches.

"What is with this _confounded _sword?" he exclaimed.

The instructor snickered again. "Don't worry, beginners always have to get used to how much a sword weighs."

"But I'm not a . . ."

"Yes yes, I know," the instructor interrupted, clearly not believing him. "Well let me help you anyway." She reached over and yanked Galahad's sword out of its sheath in one swift move. "There you go," she said, handing the sword back to him. "Good as new."

Galahad felt his face turn red. The sword in his hand _did_ feel unusually heavy – in fact, he could feel it pulling down on his arm like a weight, but he wasn't about to give the instructor the pleasure of seeing that.

"Ready?" said the instructor.

"Yes," Galahad said, glaring at her.

"All right," the instructor said.

The next thing Galahad knew, he was clutching his stomach in pain. "What the hell did you do that for?" he grunted.

"Well, you said you were ready," said the instructor, still snickering through her nose.

"Yes," Galahad still insisted, "I _am _ready." He raised his sword up, but once again received a painful poke in the stomach.

"I thought these tips were blunted!" he shouted as he clutched his stomach for the second time.

Now the instructor was making no attempt to hide her giggles. "They are," she said between bouts of laughter. "Are you sure you don't want a lesson?"

"Yes," Galahad said with a growl. "Now let's do this."

_Two hours later. _

Galahad stumbled back to his wife, thoroughly exhausted and humiliated. He found her leaning against the fence, a wicked grin on her face. By the time he came up close to her, she was doubled up in laughter.

"Don't worry, husband," she said between giggle fits. "You just have to learn the way humans do – bit by bit."

"All right, all right, we're even," Galahad said with a groan.

Te'ijal offered her arm to her husband. "Come darling, let's go home. You want those bruises to heal, don't you?"

Galahad took her arm. "Yes," he said. "We'll probably be coming back here soon, after all."


	4. A Bite for a Bite

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 4: A Bite for a Bite

Te'ijal and Galahad were sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, listening to the wind rapping against their walls on yet another chilly Sedona evening. At least, it felt chilly to a pair of former vampires who had gone centuries without feeling temperature – they were both wrapped up in blankets, which Te'ijal found incredibly embarrassing.

She looked over at Galahad, whose beautiful neck seemed to glow in the firelight. Even though he was human now, the two marks where her fangs had pierced him were still visible. His refusal to feed had kept those marks from healing – now he would probably have them for the rest of his human life.

She wondered if he knew they were still there.

Her bare feet felt like two pieces of ice even though they were close to the fire. She was tempted to put them on the sofa cushion and under the blanket, but that idea made her feel claustrophobic. To press her entire body together for the sake of something as pitiful as warmth – it was insane.

But then again, her entire life had become insane lately.

She looked again at her husband's neck, remembering how delicious his blood had been when she bit him. Back when she had that ability, that one simple ability to change people, to bond someone to her for eternity. The more she stared at his neck, the more she wished that she still had that ability.

"Galahad?" she said suddenly.

"What?" her husband said in a content manner.

Te'ijal brushed her teeth over her lip. "Do you think we still have any vampire left in us?"

Galahad looked at her with his mouth twisted, communicating that he couldn't believe that she was actually saying this. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, suppose I have a little vampire essence left in me?" She stared into his eyes. "Perhaps enough to turn someone _back_ into a vampire?"

For a moment there was horror in Galahad's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by relaxation. "And what would you do if that was true?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Why, change _you_ back, of course," Te'ijal said matter-of-factly.

"And why would you want to do that?" Galahad asked. "That wouldn't make _you_ change back."

Te'ijal sighed. "But then _you_ could change me back." She leaned in close to him, positioning her lips just inches above his neck. "What do you say?" she whispered seductively. "I bite you and then you bite me. Let's just see what happens."

Galahad swallowed a snicker – he clearly didn't believe anything would happen if she bit him. "All right, wife," he said. "If it makes you feel better, go ahead."

Without hesitance, Te'ijal sank her teeth into Galahad's neck, for a moment thinking yes, this would work, they would both be whole again . . . but then she realized that her teeth couldn't pierce his skin. And to make it worse, Galahad was _laughing._

"What's so funny?" she growled.

"Nothing," Galahad said, though he was still grinning. "It just tickled, that's all."

_"Tickled?"_ Te'ijal exclaimed. She immediately thrust herself at his neck and bit down as hard as she could

"Ow, ow, all right, _that_ hurt," said Galahad, reaching up to clutch his neck, pushing his wife's teeth away and showing her that she had again failed to draw even the tiniest drop of blood.

"Well, did it work?" Te'ijal asked softly, even though she already knew the answer to that question.

Galahad grinned again. "Nope, I'm afraid not." He reached over and gently stroked her neck. "Well, do you still want me to try it out on you?"

"A deal is a deal," Te'ijal replied, her illogical side desperately hoping that maybe Galahad still had the power to turn someone even though she knew that since he had never fed on human blood, he never had that power in the first place.

Galahad's bite was far gentler than hers – it was more like he was massaging her skin with his teeth. She felt no pain at all – and no tickling either, just the warmth of his mouth. After he "bit" her a couple of times, his motions gradually became long, hungry kisses moving up and down her neck.

Te'ijal groaned. "Galahad . . . stop."

"Why?" Galahad whispered, his fingers gently pinching the collar of her dress, which instantly made her think about undoing his shirt, no matter how much she wanted to resist her new human instincts.

Before she knew what was happening, she kicked the blanket off of her and Galahad dove over her body. In another moment, she was indeed undoing his shirt and kissing his bare shoulders, unable to listen to her better judgement. She had been trying to convince Galahad that she disliked this _particular_ aspect of human nature, but she knew he wouldn't believe her for a second – he knew she was lying. And yes, she knew she was lying too. Soon it would probably be useless to pretend at all.

As she pulled her husband closer to her and began running her lips over his neck, kissing those two beautiful marks, she thought that she would have to tell Mel about this night in her next letter.

Well, she might leave out _certain _details.


	5. Colds are Gross

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 5: Colds are Gross

Dealing with a regular sick person was hard enough, Galahad thought, but dealing with a sick ex-vampire was near impossible. All day long, he had been running up and down stairs, fetching whatever his wife asked for, listening to her complain, complain, complain. He knew she only had a few fragmentary memories of her previous human life from eight hundred years ago – and being sick certainly wasn't one of them. For all practical purposes, this was a new experience for her, and she made it no secret that she hated it perhaps more than everything else about being human.

Now he was in the kitchen, fixing her chicken soup over the fire, but his ears remained tensed up, listening for her accented voice that was unusually shrill today. Somehow she managed to call to him every other minute even though her throat was sore.

"GALAHAD!"

Just like that.

After making sure that the soup would be all right if he left it for a few minutes, Galahad rushed up the stairs to their bedroom, where he found Te'ijal sitting up in bed, blowing her nose into an already-soiled handkerchief. She was almost as pale as she had been when she was a vampire, which Galahad found slightly amusing, though he of course wouldn't tell her.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Is the soup ready?" she croaked out, her voice quickly dissolving into a cough.

Galahad almost felt like laughing. She must really be sick – she was actually _asking_ to eat human food.

"Just about," he said.

"Well then, go get it!" Te'ijal replied, blowing her nose again.

Galahad gave his wife the friendliest smile he could muster. "All right. Is there anything else you would like? It looks like you could use another handkerchief."

"Fine," Te'ijal growled, squeezing her handkerchief into a ball. "But be quick."

Galahad did as he was told like a dutiful husband, even though he wasn't sure that the soup was completely done. He returned to the bedroom with a bowl of soup and a clean handkerchief, just in time to witness his wife giving a gigantic sneeze into her arm.

"Here you go, here you go," he said, quickly handing her the handkerchief and placing the bowl of soup in her lap. "Nice hot soup, it should help you feel better."

Te'ijal desperately blew her nose yet again. "It's _disgusting."_

"The soup? Come on, you haven't even tried it yet . . ."

"Not that, you fool," Te'ijal interrupted. _"This."_

"Ah, I see," Galahad said. "Well you're right about that, but it should clear up in a few days."

Te'ijal raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "What do you mean, I'm right?"

"Being sick is disgusting," answered Galahad. "I suppose that was _one_ good thing about being a vampire – I never got sick."

Despite her weak condition and her less-than-pleasant mood, Te'ijal managed to give him a small grin. "So you actually admit that there was something you liked about being a vampire. I'll have to write to Mel about that – she will be _most_ amused."

Galahad rolled his eyes, hoping she would forget about that by the time she was well enough to write to Mel again. "Come on, eat the soup before it gets cold."

Te'ijal leaned back against the headboard and actually obeyed him without complaint, though she had to cough after almost every spoonful. After a few minutes, Galahad realized he was tired of standing all day. "Sweetheart," he said gently, "do you mind if I sit down for a little bit?" He wasn't quite sure why he was asking her permission – maybe he just wanted to make certain that she wouldn't yell at him.

"Go ahead," she said.

He began to sit down in the chair next to the bed, but then he thought of somewhere more comfortable. With a cheeky grin, he leapt onto his side of the bed, settling himself against the headboard next to his wife.

"What are you doing?" Te'ijal exclaimed in a weak, raspy voice.

"Relaxing," said Galahad, resting his head on his arms and kicking his boots off. "I haven't gotten to do that much today."

"Aren't colds contagious?" Te'ijal coughed out.

"Yes," said Galahad, "but since I've been waiting on you all day, I'll probably catch your cold no matter what I do, so there's no point in being cautious, is there?"

Te'ijal rolled her eyes. "I suppose you'll be expecting me to wait on_ you_ then?"

"Of course."

Te'ijal apparently felt too sick to think of a clever response. She was silent as she ate her soup, only pausing to cough or blow her nose. Her watery eyes were giving slow, tired blinks that grew longer as time passed.

"There," Galahad said when she finished the soup. "Feel better now?"

"No," Te'ijal choked out, burying her face in the handkerchief. "I feel awful."

Galahad reached over and took the empty bowl, stroking her hair while he was at it. "Well, maybe you should try getting some sleep. That helps."

"You _know_ I can't sleep in a bed," Te'ijal growled through the handkerchief.

"And yet you do so every night."

"Only because you have this obsession with carrying me to bed when I'm asleep." Te'ijal ground her teeth. "Do you have _any_ idea how annoying it . . ." She wasn't able to finish – a storm of coughing overtook her.

Galahad gently grasped her shoulders. "Easy . . . easy . . . it's all right . . ."

"I HATE THIS!" Te'ijal shouted as soon as she was able, which only resulted in another storm of coughs.

"Shhh," Galahad whispered. "Shouting will only make it worse." Little by little, he eased her body down into a lying position, resting her head on the pillow – and strangely enough, she didn't complain. The coughing had apparently worn her out.

"Sleep, love," he continued, placing his hand on her head. "You'll feel better when you wake up, I'm sure of it." Gently, rhythmically, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, attempting to soothe his suffering wife, hoping she would be able to escape into unawareness for a little while.

To his complete surprise, his actions worked – Te'ijal fell asleep in only a few minutes. For a moment Galahad was unsure what to do. After a morning of following orders, silence and stillness felt strange. With a small yawn, he gently eased himself down on his own pillow, gazing at his wife, who managed to appear peaceful even though her breath was coming out with a sickly rasp. Would he have ever thought that he would one day be so dedicated to the woman who had enslaved him?

No, Galahad thought as he closed his eyes. But unpredictability was what made life interesting.


	6. Like a Human Wife

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 6: Like a Human Wife

Te'ijal stared into the mirror. She hated the mirror – it always made her wish that her reflection would vanish, literally vanish. Her skin was now peach and her eyes were now violet, but even if she still looked exactly the same as she had before, the very fact that she could see herself in a mirror would always remind her of all she had lost.

Yet here she was, staring at the mirror, looking not at her skin or her eyes but at her waist. It looked . . . different. No, not different . . . just bigger. Bigger. In fact, it wasn't just her waist – her hips were bigger, her chest was bigger, there seemed to be a general bigness throughout her torso.

She turned to the side, observing her stomach from this angle, noting how it seemed to slightly puff out from her body.

Could she be pregnant?

The very thought made her short of breath. If she had a child, responsibility towards that child would mean no going back – she would have to remain human forever. No . . . no . . . she wasn't pregnant, she reassured herself. Just the week before, she had experienced one of the more disgusting elements of being a human woman – she couldn't possibly be pregnant.

But what would she do if she was?

She pushed that thought out of her mind and once again focused on her torso. Yes, she was definitely bigger, and if she wasn't pregnant, that meant she was just gaining weight.

A swear escaped her mouth. As if needing to eat food wasn't bad enough already, now she was experiencing the after effects of it. Did the goddess just find it amusing to torture her with every aspect of being a human?  
How big was she going to get if she kept eating? Would she get so fat that she would never be able to fight again? Would she get so fat that she would never be able to move again?

"I'm home!"

Her husband's call barely distracted her from her train of thought. Even his reflection appearing next to hers did little to distract her.

"Te'ijal?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

Te'ijal sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Galahad, do you think I'm getting fat?"

For a moment Galahad's eyes widened, as if she had asked something incredibly shocking. "I'm sorry love, what did you say?"

"Do you think I'm getting fat?"

Now Galahad was wearing a mischievous grin for some bizarre reason. He reached up and cupped his ear with his hand. "What was that, _dear?" _

Te'ijal growled. "I asked if you thought I was getting fat. Have you gone deaf or something?"

Galahad snickered loudly. "No I haven't, I just found the question amusing."

"What's so funny about it?"

Galahad snickered again. "You're acting like a regular human wife, that's all."

"What?"

"I'm serious," Galahad continued, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pointing at her reflection. "Human wives are always asking their husbands if they're getting fat, which always means trouble for the husbands."

"Why?" Te'ijal asked, twisting her lips.

"Well, if we say yes, they get angry because we called them fat," Galahad said with another snicker. "But if we say no, they still get angry because they think we're lying. There's no winning for a husband if his wife asks if she's getting fat."

"Humans are weird," Te'ijal declared.

Galahad ran his hands down her sides, keeping his eyes on her reflection. "So which would you prefer, dear wife? Would you rather if I called you fat or said something you thought was a lie?"

"I prefer the truth," Te'ijal said, rolling her eyes at the pettiness of humans.

"All right," said Galahad, though there was now a hint of nervousness in his voice. With his hands on her hips, he took a deep breath and said, "You _do_ seem to be gaining weight . . . but then again, what would you expect? You've gotten off of your all-blood diet." He pointed at his own reflection. "I'm gaining weight too – it's one of those things that comes from eating."

Te'ijal hadn't really noticed her husband gaining weight, but now that he pointed it out to her, his larger hips and waist appeared obvious. It didn't make her feel much better about her own weight, though.

"Of course," said Galahad, "I've always thought that skinniness is overrated."

"No you haven't," Te'ijal said knowingly.

"All right, I think that _now." _He sighed. "I got us some ingredients for tonight's dinner. We could have a big meal and celebrate getting fat by making ourselves fatter."

Te'ijal raised her eyebrow at her husband's pathetic joke, then she suddenly remembered her earlier concern. It might not have been true _this _time . . . but what about later? So long as they kept indulging in the activities of human marriage, it would be a possibility.

"Galahad?" she said suddenly.

"What?"

Te'ijal looked her husband's reflection in the eyes. "What would we do if I became pregnant?"

Galahad smiled at her reflection. "Why, we would have a baby, of course."

He made it sound so idiotically simple. Of course, he was perfectly satisfied to remain human for the rest of his life – he had never appreciated the gift of vampirism. Did he even consider that if it weren't for her, he would be long dead and gone now?

"Do you _want _to have a baby?" he suddenly asked. "I suppose we could try for one."

"I don't know," Te'ijal blurted out, surprising herself with her answer. Why hadn't she answered with a definite _no? Did _she actually want a baby? She couldn't find any answers.

Galahad wrapped his arms around her larger waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "It's all right, there's plenty of time to decide."

Plenty of time. Maybe there was plenty of time by human standards, but not by vampire standards.

By those standards, humans had almost no time at all.

Galahad rubbed her stomach. "Come on, let's make dinner. Don't worry, you'll get used to your new size."

Her new size, maybe. But not the idea of having a child. _That_ would probably be on her mind for a long time.


	7. Vampire Tears

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 7: Vampire Tears

Te'ijal was cooking.

She couldn't believe it herself, much less expect anyone else to, but she had become quite good at cooking since she and Galahad moved to Sedona. At first Galahad had prepared all their meals, but for whatever reason, she soon decided that she wanted to learn to cook herself. Maybe it was an attempt to get used to human food, but if that was the reason, it hadn't been very successful so far. Still, it gave her something to do every evening.

Now she was preparing the salad while Galahad cooked the meat. Chopping the vegetables had a nice rhythm to it, not that she cared much for eating them, of course. The meat smelled more and more unappetizing the longer it cooked, but Galahad had promised that he wouldn't cook it any longer than necessary. She of course thought it was unnecessary to cook it at all, but Galahad insisted that raw meat wasn't good for humans.

Raw meat, drenched in delicious blood.

Blood . . .

She quickly shook her head in an attempt to drive the thought out – she would never survive the meal if she kept thinking about blood.

She was up to the onions now. Onions, yes, she should concentrate on chopping the onions. Chop the onions, chop the onions, chop the onions . . .

But the onions were quick to emit their fumes. Every time the knife came down, the fumes got worse, filling up Te'ijal's eyes, as if the onions objected to being cut apart. She felt her eyes stinging, growing moister and moister by the second. Finally her eyes could take it no longer and they started emitting tears. Clear tears, tears of salty water instead of blood.

She wiped her eyes with the hand that had been handling the onion, which of course made the stinging worse. Her eyes reflexively squeezed themselves shut, pushing more of those wretched tears out.

"Honey, are you all right?"

She barely heard Galahad's voice – she could only think about the pain in her eyes and the humiliating liquid running down her cheeks. Her eyes wouldn't be so vulnerable if she were still a vampire. In fact, she wouldn't be chopping onions in the first place if she were still a vampire. No, she would be hunting in the dead of night, running as fast as the wind, floating up to her prey . . .

And what was she doing now? Chopping onions.

Chopping stupid, stinky, fume-filled onions.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt like crying – like _actually _crying, not just reacting to onions. Why had becoming human made her so fragile? Vampires almost never cried, and when they did, their tears were made of blood, not pathetic salt water.

Blood, blood, her thoughts always returned to blood.

She was no human – she was a vampire trapped in a human's body.

Trapped . . .

Now Galahad was wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Te'ijal, what's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," Te'ijal immediately snapped. "It's the onions, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

Te'ijal ground her teeth, her blunt teeth, no longer fit for tearing through skin.

"Come on," Galahad continued, "you can tell me. What's wrong?"

Te'ijal growled. "Only _everything_ – or did you mean _besides_ that?" She slammed her knife down on the cutting board. "Stupid little onions. How can humans be so weak that a _vegetable_ overtakes them?"

Galahad smirked, gently ruffling her skirt with his hands. "Well if I recall correctly, vampires get overtaken by a certain _other_ vegetable." He released her and stepped closer to the onions, wiping his own eyes from the fumes. "Garlic is kind of similar to onions, isn't it?"

"No!" Te'ijal spat.

"All right then," said Galahad, turning back to face his wife, "how is it_ not _similar?"

"Garlic doesn't have stupid fumes," Te'ijal immediately declared with a sniff.

"No, you're right about that," said Galahad, "but then again, that's only if you're a human. Now if you're a _vampire_ . . ."

"Stop it!" Te'ijal interrupted, baring her teeth, wishing so desperately that she still had her fangs. "Just _stop it!"_

Her husband showed his palms in a universal gesture meant to calm people down. "All right, all right, I'm just trying to give you a little perspective, that's all."

"Perspective?" Te'ijal shrieked. "Don't talk to me about perspective – you never listened to any of the _perspective _I gave you about being a vampire."

"Well that makes us perfectly matched, doesn't it?" said Galahad. "In that sense, we're exactly alike."

Te'ijal growled again, once more grinding her horribly blunt teeth together. She stormed back up to the counter, pushing her husband aside, and picked the knife back up. Perhaps she was intending to go back to cutting the onions, but once she had the knife in her hand, she raised it up and stared at it, at its sharp blade and her hideous reflection in it.

Blood . . . she wanted blood . . .

"Te'ijal?" Galahad asked in a worried voice. "What are you doing?"

Before she could think her way out of it, she plunged the blade into her own arm, cutting open a vein. Struggling to ignore the pain, she put her arm in her mouth and began sucking on her own blood. She heard Galahad screaming her name in horror, but she couldn't acknowledge it – all her focus was on her blood . . . which tasted horribly bitter and metallic. It was only a few seconds before she could stand it no longer and began spitting it out.

Galahad was next to her now, trembling slightly. "Te'ijal . . . how could you _do_ such a thing? What were you _thinking?"_

Te'ijal couldn't answer – she merely looked at her arm, which was still bleeding.

Galahad produced a clean rag and tied it around her arm, panting all the while. "Sweetheart, for the goddess's sake, don't scare me like that again."

Scare him. She had scared him when she hurt herself.

Her husband finally admitted that he cared about her, but all she could think about was how much she hated her new existence.

The tears were coming again, but not from the onions or even from the pain of her wound, just from stupid human emotion. For a moment she wanted to hide her face in shame, but then her husband wrapped his arms around her, silently communicating that it was all right.

Later, when they had their dinner, the meat was overcooked and the salad didn't have much onion, but nothing was said about it.


	8. Coffin Shopping

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 8: Coffin Shopping

Te'ijal had had it with the bed. Every night she lay down on the floor only to wake up in the bed the next morning. Over and over, no matter how many times she told Galahad not to move her to the bed. He continued to live in his delusion that if he carried her to bed enough times, she would eventually _want _to sleep there.

What a fool.

Well tonight the sleeping arrangements would be settled for good. She would have her own place to sleep, something Galahad would never _dare_ take her out of.

The morgue was full of coffins . . . it felt a little like home to her. This was a place full of death, a place made for death. She smelled the air, taking in the odor of dust settling on wood. With some skulls and cobwebs, this place might feel right at home in Ghe'dare.

"Hello, miss. What can I do for you?"

The morgue's owner was middle aged and weary-looking, someone who had seen death far more often than most humans were used to. Te'ijal imagined that she could get along with him quite well.

"I would like to by a coffin," she said.

"Certainly," said the shopkeeper. "Just tell me who it's for so I can take measurements of the body."

"It's for me," Te'ijal said casually, forgetting that humans didn't usually buy coffins for themselves.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, as if he thought he hadn't heard her right. "I'm sorry, who's it for again?"

"It's for me," Te'ijal repeated with a hint of annoyance, stretching out her arms to the side. "Now are you going to measure me or not?"

The shopkeeper started with a snicker, then it became a guffaw, then it became a full-blown fit of laughter. "It's for you?" he chortled. "Bit early to prepare for that, isn't it?" He started pounding his fist on the desk in amusement. "Come on, you're what, thirty? You don't look a day older than that."

"I assure you, I am _much_ older," Te'ijal declared, glaring at the stupid human, but that only caused him to laugh even harder.

"Oh sure, much much older," he said in a hysterical tone. "Just how old would that be?"

"I'm eight hundred and thirty-seven1" Te'ijal snapped, slamming her own fist on the desk.

Now the shopkeeper was laughing so hard that he was gasping for breath. "Okay . . . stop . . . stop . . . I can't take anymore . . ."

Te'ijal bared her blunted teeth as if about to bite him. "I used to be a VAMPIRE, you idiot!"

The shopkeeper was apparently laughing too hard to speak anymore.

"It's true!" she continued, growing angrier by the moment. "I was a vampire until this stupid orb turned me back into a human." She ground her fangless teeth as tears started pouring out of the shopkeeper's eyes from laughter. "I probably _ate_ your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather!"

"Well how did he taste?" the shopkeeper managed to ask before breaking down in laughter once again. Hiccups were beginning to crack into his laughing fest.

Te'ijal growled. "I assure you, if I still had my fangs you wouldn't be laughing." She leaned forward, wishing her glare still had the impact it once had. "You would be _dead."_

She stormed out of the building, leaving the stupid shopkeeper to deal with his hiccups.

- - - - - - -

That night, as the former vampire couple got ready for bed, Te'ijal crawled into bed next to her husband, much to his surprise.

"Te'ijal?" he exclaimed. "Aren't you going to sleep on the floor?"

"What's the point?" Te'ijal grumbled, pulling the covers over her. "You'll just put me into bed anyway."

"Well . . .yes, that's true," Galahad said, a hint of disappointment in his voice rather than triumph. Te'ijal suspected that her husband might have enjoyed carrying her to bed all those  
nights. In fact, she would probably bet money that he had.

"Why the change of mind?" Galahad continued.

"I don't want to talk about it," Te'ijal answered in a near whisper.

"Did something happen?" Galahad persisted.

"If something did, it would be my own affair, not yours," Te'ijal snapped. "Just because I'm a human now doesn't mean I have to report everything to you."

She sank her head into the pillow, facing away from her husband, already feeling the awful confinement on her head and neck. What she wouldn't give for a coffin, something that supported her body instead of scrunching it up. But no, she couldn't even _pay _for a coffin in _this_ body.

When Galahad went several minutes without responding, she sighed. She knew she shouldn't take her anger out on him – he was trying his hardest to help her. In fact, if she looked at it objectively, she was lucky that he hadn't walked out on her as soon as he became a human again.

Why _hadn't_ he done just that? He had tried to escape her countless times when they were vampires, after all, though after the first hundred years or so it became a sort of game for them. He wasn't aware that it was like a game, of course, but she used to delight in the chase. And the names he called her afterward – every time he yelled at her it made her smile with the knowledge that he was in denial, that it was his way of flirting, even if he didn't know it.

But now there was no mystique about his feelings for her – it was all overt now. In some ways it was relieving . . . but in others it made her long for the old days even more. Vampires always preferred an air of mystique.

A sudden noise interrupted her thoughts. For a moment she wondered what it was before she realized it was Galahad – snoring. He snored as a human – she didn't usually hear it since he was always determined to stay awake long enough to carry her to bed.

It was cute.

She rolled over to face her husband and gently put her hand on his cheek. She still wasn't comfortable, but Galahad's presence would certainly make this sleeping-in-a-bed thing easier.


	9. Flirting

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 9: Flirting

It was another Sedona evening. Galahad was sitting on one end of the sofa, his face in a book on Sedona's history – most likely seeing if he himself appeared in it. When they first arrived here, he had been quite disappointed to see that no one in Sedona seemed to have ever heard of him even though he was once a high-ranking knight.

Te'ijal smiled to herself at the thought of her husband finding himself in the history books as a knight who turned into a vampire. She was lounging at the other end of the sofa, alternately staring into the fire and eying her husband, waiting for him to growl in frustration when he failed to find himself in Sedona's history.

"I found something," he suddenly said, scooting over to his wife and shoving the book in front of her face. "See, I _told_ you they hadn't forgotten about me."

Te'ijal had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Galahad's big finding was merely a mention of the name _Galahad Teomes_ in a long list of people who had served as captain of the guard in Sedona's royal army over the centuries.

"And yet no mention of how you helped defeat Ahriman," she said with a smirk. "Such an injustice."

Galahad didn't seem phased by his wife's sarcasm. "Don't worry love, I _will_ find something else."

Te'ijal reflexively made a face, not because of her husband's stubbornness but because of the name he called her. She was used to him calling her names, but not _these _kinds of names – not names like "love," "darling," "sweetheart," or "honey."

"_Must_ you call me that all the time?" she found herself saying.

"What was that, love?" Galahad asked, having gone back to the book.

_"That,"_ Te'ijal replied.

"What?"

"Must you always call me _that?"_

"What, love?"

"Yes, _that."_

Galahad's face twitched, perhaps with puzzlement or perhaps with hurt. "Why not?"

Te'ijal sighed, wishing she could banish the human feeling of guilt. These human emotions, they were so frustrating. "It's . . . complicated," she finally said.

"What's so complicated about it?" Yes, there was definite hurt in Galahad's voice now, which made that annoying guilt feeling stronger.

Te'ijal sighed again. "You once called me the most _colorful_ names, not these bland human affection names."

Galahad's mouth twisted, as if he were trying to figure out what she said. "Wait . . . are you saying you actually _enjoyed_ it?"

"Didn't _you?"_ Te'ijal replied, stretching out her fingers and pretending to examine her hand. "The way you flirted – it was so unique."

"Flirted?" Galahad exclaimed, his face turning red.

"Ah, _there's_ the Galahad I remember." Te'ijal grinned at her husband. "The one in denial."

"Denial?" Galahad's face turned redder.

"Exactly," said Te'ijal, feeling a bit of her old luster return. "You _always_ found me irresistible." She leaned closer to him, whispering in his ear. "And you ran away because you knew I would catch you. You _wanted_ me to catch you." Her tongue brushed against his earlobe in a seductive manner. "Come on, admit it. You miss the old days as much as I do."

Galahad was grinding his teeth – the sign that he was reaching his breaking point.

"We have gained so much weight since becoming human," Te'ijal continued with more vigor, exaggerating her accent. "Do you not long for a little _exercise?"_

"No," Galahad sputtered.

"Once again, the denial." Te'ijal cackled. "I'm sure I could _still_ catch you, don't you think?"

"No," Galahad repeated, this time with a steady voice, one full of certainty.

"Well why don't we find out?" Without giving her husband time to respond, she pounced on him, growling playfully.

Just as she figured he would, Galahad wriggled out of her grasp and off the sofa. Once he was free, he dashed into the dining room, perhaps teasing her, perhaps remembering the old days and genuinely trying to get away from her. Whatever the reason, Te'ijal allowed him a headstart before she dashed after him.

Sure enough, once he saw her he started running around the table. Immediately she started running after him – the chase was on. Around and around they ran – an outside observer would have difficulty telling just who was chasing whom.

Running around the table reminded Te'ijal of after she had first bitten him. She used to chase him around a table back then too, with Rhen and the others looking on, probably thinking she was crazy. Maybe she _was_ crazy, but at this moment she didn't care. She dashed around like a child, cackling like a vampire.

But of course her human side had to take over soon. Her chest tightened up and she began panting, feeling like she had been running for hours when it had only been a few minutes. Her running slowed down until it was little more than a walk. Stupid human exhaustion.

Fortunately, their circular path meant that Galahad was now running _behind_ her, which made him an easy catch. Before he could realize what was happening and change direction, she whirled around and pounced on him, knocking him to the floor. They rolled over each other, settling under the table with Te'ijal on top of her husband.

"There," Te'ijal said triumphantly. "Now wasn't that _invigorating?"_

Galahad sighed, wriggling his legs out from under his wife. "Maybe a litte," he admitted.

Te'ijal grabbed his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "And now that I've caught you, say it."

Galahad grimaced. "Come on, sweetheart, my heart's not in it anymore."

"Say it anyway," Te'jal commanded. "If you care so much about your dear wife, you will say it."

The former knight sighed in defeat. "All right . . . if it means that much to you." Slowly he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Demon spawn."

Te'ijal breathed in excitement. "Again, and louder."

"Demon spawn," Galahad repeated, this time in a regular speaking voice."

A wild grin spread on Te'ijal's face. "Again."

There was a moment of silence – and then Galahad was the one who pounced, pushing his wife backward and kissing her forehead.

"Demon spawn . . ." he murmured, caressing her hair and bringing his kisses down to her cheek. "Demon spawn . . ." He kept kissing her, his voice growing lower and hungrier. "Demon spawn . . . demon spawn . . . demon spawn . . ." Finally he planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips, which stimulated her human instinct to throw her arms around him and squeeze him tightly.

It wasn't the same as the old days. Still, Te'ijal had to admit, this was a nice compromise.


	10. Mortality

"Life in Sedona"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 10

Darkness poured into the bedroom on a moonless night. The dark, once Te'ijal's familiar, comfortable world, now a world where she could see _nothing._ A world where she felt . . .alone, even though her husband was sleeping right next to her. She stared up into the dark that seemed to go on forever.

Forever . . .

Forever, once a word she savored, once a word that adaquately described why it was better to be a vampire than a human. Forever, once everything she had, the only amount of time she would accept.

She rolled over to face her husband, tempted to think that the bed was the reason why she couldn't sleep, tempted to get back on the floor . . . but something told her that even if she were to lie on the floor, she still wouldn't be able to sleep.

This was ridiculous. Vampires never had trouble sleeping – they could just lie in their coffins and be out in minutes. Then they would always wake up refreshed and ready to hunt some more. It was stupid, how humans could lie in bed for hours without getting any rest.

"Galahad?" she found herself saying without thinking about it.

Galahad groaned.

"Galahad?" Te'ijal repeated, nudging her husband.

"Mmmm?" Galahad muttered.

Te'ijal nudged him harder. "Galahad, I can't sleep."

Galahad seemed to wake up at least a little when she said that. "What's bothering you?" he mumbled.

"Nothing, I just can't sleep," Te'ijal quickly responded. "It's probably this stupid bed."

"Oh come on," said Galahad, now fully awake. "You've been sleeping just fine in the bed." He reached over to touch her shoulder. "Really, what's wrong?"

What _was _wrong? She wanted to think it was just the bed . . . but no, it wasn't. It was something else entirely.

"Galahad . . ." she whispered, ". . . do you ever wonder what the world will be like in another three hundred years?"

"No," Galahad said, so quickly that it sounded like he was in denial again.

"Well I do," Te'ijal said matter-of-factly. "Doesn't it sadden you to think that we won't be around to see it?"

Her husband sighed. "I've been around for over three hundred years. That's an incredibly long life, more than enough for a human."

Te'ijal growled. "Well if you _really _think you've lived long enough, why don't you just kill yourself here and now? It's easy for a human."

There was a moment of awkward silence before she continued. "No, you don't want to do it now, do you? Because you enjoy _living_, no matter how long you've been around."

His continued silence sent the very certain message that she was right, providing more fire for her speech. "We are _old_, Galahad. In another fifty years or so we'll be dead. Just fifty years! Doesn't that bother you?"

Galahad remained silent.

Now it was Te'ijal's turn to sigh. "No, I suppose it doesn't. After all, you spent three hundred years trying to become human again, never stopping to appreciate the glorious gift of immortality. A gift _I _gave you." She rolled to her back, once again staring up at the endless darkness. "I'm not going to make one thousand." Her breath shortened as the notion seemed to pound on her. "Other vampires have eternity, but I'm not even going to last a full millennium."

She realized that she probably sounded insane to her husband, her husband who never appreciated the vampire existence, who still thought eighty years was a perfectly good lifespan. Humans were like dogs, content with their incredibly short lives.

"Well I'm not either," Galahad finally whispered.

"But I was so _close _to it," Te'ijal lamented. "It's like the goddess wanted to tease me by bringing me almost to one thousand but then taking me away before I actually reached it."

Galahad again seemed at a loss for words. He reached over and pressed his hand against his wife's cheek, as if he thought that would make everything all right. Humans. Always trying to fix things they couldn't do anything about.

"I've seen so much . . ." she whispered, almost unaware that she was speaking. "I've seen cities rise and fall and rise again. I've seen triumph over evil, I've seen the world change so much that it's hardly recognizable. But now . . ."

She didn't know what she was about to say, but Galahad gently pushed her face so it was once more facing him. Though she couldn't see him, she found herself grateful for the gesture.

"We knew the great Rhen Pendragon," she whispered. "Back before she became the beloved queen of Thais. Remember how happy Edward was when we told him about her?"

"Yes," Galahad said carefully.

"Previously he only knew his anscestor through books and historical documents," Te'ijal continued. "But we . . . we _remember _her. We heard her laugh. We witnessed her and Dameon falling in love. We saw her power when she used the Sword of Shadows."

"Yes," Galahad repeated in an awkward tone.

"And when we die . . ." Te'ijal felt a lump forming in her throat, ". . . our memories will be gone. This world's last true link to Rhen Pendragon will be gone."

"What about the Druids? The Oracle?"

"You and I both know that they're not supposed to mingle in human affairs unless necessary," Te'ijal groaned. "They certainly won't go around telling stories about Rhen."

Galahad gave a long, deep sigh. "We can write about her."

"Writings can be lost," Te'ijal argued.

"They aren't always," said Galahad. "We could hire a printer to make our writings into a book. Perhaps people would read it."

"Would they _believe _it?" Te'ijal sighed loudly. "A book written by a pair of humans who claim they used to be vampires?"

"Our friends would believe it." Galahad stroked his wife's cheek. "Mel and Edward are King and Queen now – I'm certain their influence could help."

"Perhaps . . ." was all Te'ijal could say. _Were _they actually King and Queen now? Mel hadn't actually told Te'ijal about her life as a princess in any of her letters. Mel's letters were always full of encouragement, telling Te'ijal to keep going, that things would get better, and yet they were surprisingly lacking in details about Mel's own life. Was being a princess really so boring that Mel felt no need to write about it . . . or was Mel _hiding _something?

Te'ijal suddenly felt a burst of anger. Did Mel no longer trust Te'ijal now that she had become a weakling human? Did Mel think Te'ijal was now unable to help her?

What _could _Mel be up to? Marriage difficulties? Pressure to rule? Pregnancy?

"Yes, we're mortal," Galahad said suddenly. "But that makes our time here all the more precious."

"The excuse humans use to justify their short lives," Te'ijal mumbled.

"But it's _true._" Galahad persisted. He cupped her face in his hands and ran his thumb down her hairline. "When we know our lives will end someday, that makes it all the more important to _savor_ them, to do what you want to do _now _and not put it off indefinitely."

"Spend your brief existence hurrying to get things done." Te'ijal sniffed. "Never any time to simply _be_."

Galahad gave yet another sigh. "Well . . . maybe we could simply _be_ right now."

He kissed her forehead and gently shifted their bodies so he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her close to him until she could feel his breath on her face. Her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around him, her hands squeezing his broad shoulders. Her leg bent upwards so it could wrap around his thigh.

_Simply be . . . _

She wanted to say something, but she couldn't think of what. Death was still there, somewhere in the near future, but it wasn't _here._ It almost felt like this little embrace protected them from all that lay ahead.

Almost . . .

"Tomorrow," Te'ijal whispered in her husband's ear.

"What?"

"Tomorrow we start writing. We have centuries to cover and only fifty years to cover it in."

Though she couldn't see him, Te'ijal was sure her husband was smiling. "I think that's an excellent idea."

THE END


End file.
